Playa Des Courtney
by melancolie
Summary: So, what happens after Courtney gets das boot off of Total Drama Island? How does she take it? And just how much does she miss Duncan?
1. Beginning

**A/N:** So, as I mentioned in the most recent chapter of Total Duncan Island (chapter 24), I began a spin-off story of what's going on with Courtney while she's on the Playa Des Losers.

I know, I really shouldn't have been writing this while I should be planning out the end of TDI, but... well, I couldn't resist! I like Courtney, too, and I want to show what she's been going through since she was separated from Duncan, and I didn't want to include that in TDI, because then it wouldn't be Total Duncan Island, but Total Duncan and Courtney Island, and that doesn't roll off the tongue at all.  
This, Playa Des Courtney was born. :)

So, as for this chapter; this chapter was sort of a mirror off of the first Total Duncan Island chapter. And just like what happened with the Total Duncan Island second chapter, it'll change to first person narrative afterward, so, for now, enjoy the third person, and I hope you enjoy the spin-off! :)

* * *

Courtney had been bred for success, a fact that most people quickly learned about her. If she wanted something, she would work and work and work some more until she achieved her goals.

What people didn't seem to realize about Courtney was that she wasn't half as confident as she made herself seem. That no matter how poised she was, no matter how calmly she could conduct herself, she was still like any other person, and still had her moments of insecurity. She was still a teenage girl, and was still capable of acting as such, despite her pedigree.

What Courtney hadn't realized about herself before her stay on Total Drama Island was that her main priority in life shouldn't be how successful she could become, but how happy that success made her, and that no amount of power or fame could ever amount to true happiness.

She also hadn't realized that she was so easily malleable. She wasn't a pushover by any means, but the opposite; she was so defensive, she could be coerced into about anything. She would never refuse a challenge, no matter the terms, and it was this quality of hers that would lead her into trouble later.

She wasn't easily manipulated, despite her malleability. She knew, in the depths of her mind, what she was getting into when she was getting into it.

If she were to sit down and think about it, she would never be able to explain her attraction to Duncan. She could go on and on about the qualities in him that she loved, or respected, or admired, but she would never be able to explain why she was so in love with him. They were complete opposites, north and south, day and night, good and bad.

Which was why, when she first saw him, she never thought they would end up together. Never in a million years.

But even a straight-A, A-type student is wrong sometimes.


	2. Courtney's Arrival

**A/N:** I know you're probably like, "WHOA, how'd she get this part out so fast?!?!" Well, dear reader, there's a good explanation for that. I actually wrote this, then the first chapter. I was thinking about not doing that first chapter, but... I really wanted to. So, oh well! :)

Also, something I didn't say in the first chapter, but did mention in Total Duncan Island: I'm not finishing the entire series with this story. I'll get close, because of how far Duncan got, but with this story,** I'm only going as far as the end of Are We There, Yeti**, when Duncan and Courtney are reunited. Everything after that will just go back to Total Duncan Island. This story is sort of the tangent; like, while Duncan is competing in challenges, Courtney is sharpening her harpoons and going on a Harold-Hunt, you know?

So, without further ado, I bring you, PDC, Chapter 2! :)

Also, if you haven't read chapter 24 of Total Duncan Island, this may contain spoilers. Just in case you care.

* * *

I sat on the Boat of Losers and turned the carved skull Duncan gave me over and over in my hand, admiring the intricate detail. He'd carved little teeth into the mouth, and the eyes were perfectly equal. I also appreciated the cavity inside it, and the hinges; it would make the perfect little storage space for something small and important. My stomach filled with butterflies when I thought about him, and I smiled.

Everything I'd learned about him surprised me. When I first saw him on the Dock of Shame at the beginning of Total Drama Island, I expected him to be this violent, arrogant jerk. And, well, he was. But that was only one side of him. It was his front, and while his front had caught my attention, it was his other side that hooked me in. He was so sweet, and so kind, and so funny, and so witty. He was completely different than I expected... and I loved that about him.

I loved how strong he was. How tough he was. How sweet he could be when nobody was around, and how straightforward he was. And I really loved how affectionate he was. That was unexpected, and, I won't lie, very welcome. I wasn't particularly affectionate, myself, but I didn't (and wouldn't) object to his affection.

And I loved how sure of himself he was. I loved him for it, but I envied him for it, too. I always tried to make sure I looked confident and poised, but there were times when it was difficult to make the first move, and I respected that he was unafraid enough to do it. Which is why it had been so easy for me to just turn, grab his face and kiss him; because he'd started it, and I didn't have to be the one embarrassed if I'd been wrong.

It had been a warm evening, but now that it was dark, I was cold. I hadn't had an opportunity to grab my things from my cabin; Chris and Chef had unceremoniously thrown me into the Boat of Losers before I had the chance. So I wasn't sure what I was going to do in regards to clothes for the next however long it would be before I could get my clothes. I really hoped Chris was lying when he said it wouldn't be until the finale. That wouldn't be for another few weeks, and I **really** didn't want to wait that long to change my clothes again.

Chris. I frowned, and squinted at nothing in particular. It was his fault I was on this stupid boat. His fault I got kicked off. His fault I didn't win, and his fault Duncan and I were separated the day after we started dating. My stomach clenched, and I was so angry I wanted to vomit. I would have, too, if whoever was steering the boat hadn't shouted, "Courtney! We're here."

I looked up from the skull (that I hadn't taken my eyes off of since Duncan had tossed it to me), to find that the boat driver was wrong. He was supposed to take me to the mainland, but from what I could tell, this was another island. It was dark, but I could barely make out the shape of a large building. I approached the guy, and said, "Uh, sir, I don't think this is the right place."

"Oh, no, girlie, this is the place. Now get'cher butt of the boat!" He shouted. The voice was oddly familiar. It took me a minute to figure it out, and, in surprise, I said, "Chef Hatchet!? How can you be driving the boat, you threw me in here and walked away!"

The guy shook his head. "I'm Chef's brother. Now get **off the boat!**" He said forcefully. In fear, I ran back towards the ramp and jumped onto the dock. I took two steps before seeing a figure in front of me. I froze.

"Welcome, Courtney, to the Playa Des Losers!" Another familiar voice said. This one didn't take me half as long to recognize, and I glared (unnecessarily; he couldn't see me anyways).

"Chris." I said curtly, still angry.

Even though it was dark, I could see his pearly white smirk. "I know you're feeling a little confused, but just walk with me, and I'll explain it all." He said, walking forward and putting an arm around me. I shrugged it off, and followed him.

* * *

As we approached the building, it became easier and easier to see, and I finally realized that it was a hotel. Chris began to talk.

"So, Courtney, you just got voted off of Total Drama Island. How are you feeling?" He asked. He sounded sincere, but the thing about Chris was that he was very good at pretending, so I just scowled and said a few words to him that I wouldn't have even thought if there had been a camera around.

Chris just smirked wider. "Yea, I figured it would be something like that. And that's why we set up the Playa De Losers just three miles away from Camp Wawanakwa; here, you'll be able to relax and hang out and try to forget the bitter disappointment over losing a hundred thousand dollars." He said smugly. I rolled my eyes.

'_Yea, I'm sure that's exactly why he set this up._' I thought, irritated.

"So, what about my stuff?" I asked, uninterested in almost everything he had to say.

"I brought that all with me when I took my jet ski over here." He said, emphasizing the fact that he had a jet ski. I rolled my eyes again. "I had an intern put it all in your room."

I nodded, and we continued walking towards the building. It hadn't looked this far away when I'd gotten on the island. "So, where are we going?"

"Well, normally, our first stop would have been the hotel, but there's something I think you'll want to see first." He said, just as smug as ever. I rolled my eyes, wondering what he could possibly think was more important than me reuniting with my possessions.

* * *

He led me into a door in the side of the hotel, down a hallway and into a large recreation room. There was a foosball table, an air hockey table, a few vending machines, and three big couches centered around a very large television screen. One entire side of the wall was a giant window, and I could see a pool with a built in bar, a hot tub, and a very large, elaborate grill outside of it.

To the side of the television, I saw a whole entertainment center full of movies, video games, systems and a DVD player. I raised an eyebrow, curious as to why they would go so far to fill an entertainment center that we'd only be using for a couple of weeks. Chris approached the entertainment center, gestured for me to take a seat, and hit the play button.

Harold's face immediately showed up on the screen, and he started talking for a few minutes about how frustrated he was getting with the other guys. I looked at Chris, hoping for a clue that would inform me why anything to do with Harold had anything to do with me. Chris just gestured for me to keep watching.

Turning back to the screen, I listened to Harold rant for a little while about how much he hated them all, but most of all, he hated Duncan. Then he went on and on and on about the pranks Duncan pulled on him, his thoughts about Duncan (which were full of curse words and violence), and how it would all be different if he weren't under oath not to use his martial arts training to pick a fight.

Then, he sighed, and reached into his pocket. Pulling out a screw driver, he unfastened the screws that connected the Vote box to the wall. Then, he used it again to open the box. He put the screw driver back into his pocket, and said, "Let's see how you like it when someone messes with your love life!" He reached into the Vote box and pulled out all the ballots, and at the same time pulled out some slips of paper from his pocket. On them, I couldn't see the words very clearly, but they were fanned out enough for me to see 'Cou' printed in very messy handwriting on most of them. He put the votes with my name on them back into the box and shut it, then reached forward and turned off the camera.

For a minute, I sat there in stupefied silence. I looked from Chris to the screen and back again. Then I stood up, still staring at the screen. Then I did something I'd never done before; I ran forward and pushed the television over.

And then I kept going.

I laid waste to that recreation room. Every DVD was shattered to pieces. The television screen was completely busted. I stepped on every game system in the room, and upturned the air hockey table. I broke every row of men off the foosball table and used them all to hit the couches until they were torn and stuffing was flowing out.

And I was still angry.

So I spent another twenty minutes further breaking everything in the room until there was stuffing everywhere, and little plastic pieces from the little plastic foosball men scattered the floor. Broken CD remains were driven into the carpet, and tears of the sofa fabric had managed, somehow, to get into the TV screen.

I was still angry, but not so much that I lost my cool.

So finally, breathing heavily, I turned to Chris and looked around the floor beneath me. "So, uh... sorry." I said insincerely. I really wasn't sorry at all, even if it meant that was that for the recreation room. Chris just continued to smile.

"It's cool. You should have seen the damage Eva had done. We had to close an entire wing off for a week." Chris said, laughing. "It was brutal. We had to bring in her anger management counselor before we could let her with the other losers. Besides, the producers are paying for all of this, so it's no skin off my nose."

I nodded. I was really tired now, now that the adrenaline had all worn out, and I wanted nothing more now than to take a bath and go to sleep. I would be able to bathe for as long as I wanted, now, and I would sleep in a nice, comfortable bed for the first time in a long time. Tomorrow morning I would eat a decent meal (my stomach growled in anticipation, and I realized that it had been a while since I'd had anything to eat, and kept it down; it had to be three days at least), and do all my laundry, and maybe the sting of losing would be lessened by being well-rested and properly nourished and cleaned. I highly doubted it, but I was hoping.

* * *

Chris led me up six flights of stairs (he said that the elevator was malfunctioning), then turned me down a hall. He said that I had an entire half of the floor, and that the other half would belong to the next person that got voted off. But then he said that it didn't really matter, because it was already divided into two halves, and one half was one of the two rooms. I nodded. If this place was as nice as I was expecting it to be, it wouldn't matter; I'd spend most of my time outside anyways.

He led me to my room. On it, a gold plaque had been placed in a holder on the door where the number should have been, and it had my name on it. He gave me two passkeys, and told me that my smartest bet would be to leave it hidden somewhere around the door, because it was easy to lose a passkey. I thanked him for the advice, and he left, saying he was headed back to the island.

For a second, I considered asking him to send a message to Duncan, but then I realized that either he wouldn't do it, or he'd alter the message, and cause problems, because he was a sadist like that. So I sighed, pushed my passkey into the door and headed inside my room.

Upon entering, I was surprised at how large the room was; and there was more than just the room. There was an attached sitting room, and a kitchen off the side. Through another door was a small closet, and then through the last door by the windows was the bathroom. It strongly resembled a studio apartment, in that it was all just one big room and then a bathroom. On my bed, I saw my two suitcases and carry-on bag from the train I'd taken to the pick-up site. I opened one of the suitcases and took out an entire set of clean clothes, my razor, soap, shampoo, and conditioner, and headed to the bathroom.

The bathroom was about half the size of the room. Compared to most bathrooms, it was very large. It was all white; white tiles on the ground, white tiles on the walls, white paint above the tiles on the wall, a white sink, white bathtub, white toilet, white towels on a white shelf. I set my stuff down on the sink, and, suddenly curious, headed into the kitchen.

I opened some cupboards to find boxes of crackers and bags of chips; cookies and vanilla wafers and graham crackers. I looked into the fridge to find bread, milk, soda, a few different kinds of juice, some fruit, pudding, jam, and (and I was absolutely certain this was done on purpose) a plate of green jelly. I looked at it disgustedly before grabbing a bottle of apple juice and shutting the fridge door. I opened it and took a long drag before putting the lid back on and putting the bottle back in the fridge. Then I opened the icebox and saw ice cream and ice inside. I raised an eyebrow at their choices of food when stocking my room, and walked back to the bathroom.

* * *

I sank into the bathtub and let out a long sigh. The water was hot and steaming, and as I sat, I slowly clenched and unclenched my muscles, starting from my toes to my shoulders and neck. Once that process was complete, I sank deeper into the water, so that it was up to my nose, and I was reclining against the back of the tub. I shut my eyes and breathed slowly through my nose.

I sat in the tub for a long time and kept my mind cleared. It was one of the tips I'd listed in my book; after a stressful situation, meditation and relaxation were the best way to prepare for the next stressful situation, and I'd always made a habit of meditating right before bed. It helped to keep me from dreaming.

I must have sat in there for an hour, because the water was lukewarm, borderline cold by the time I started washing. I had to stand up and drip water on the floor to grab a washcloth from the shelf above the toilet, and while I was there, I grabbed three towels; a small one for my hair, a medium sized one to lay out on the floor, and a large one to dry myself off afterward. I washed quickly, feeling sleepy, and rinsed off with the shower as the tub drained.

I laid the medium towel on the floor before stepping out. I grabbed the small towel and wrapped my hair in it. Then I grabbed the larger towel and dried myself off as best as I could before putting on my pajamas.

Out in my room, I hung the three towels up on a small hook outside the bathroom door. Then I grabbed my hairbrush and hairdryer, and set about drying my hair. My eyes were tired, and I was blinking rapidly, trying not to fall asleep. My hair was really thick, and normally took a long time to dry, but it felt like it took an hour to dry then.

After my hair was dried, I put my hairbrush and hairdryer back in my suitcase, and grabbed my toothbrush and toothpaste. I brushed my teeth quickly and thoroughly. When I was satisfied, I put a cap on my toothbrush and twisted the cap back on the toothpaste and put that with my hairdryer and hairbrush in my suitcase.

To finish my nightly ritual, I looked around the room quickly to make sure I hadn't left a mess. As normal, everything was in perfect condition, without a hair out of place. I put my suitcases on the floor next to my bed, and pulled the covers back. Before climbing into bed, I cracked my knees, twisted around to crack my back, cracked my knuckles, and cracked my neck. Then I crawled into bed, and was asleep in minutes. As usual, I didn't dream.

* * *

**A/N:** S'aright? :)  
Hope you liked!  
Next part should be coming soon!


	3. The First Two Days

**A/N:** Hey, guys! Look who's back from the dead! And, by "the dead" I mean Ohio. xP  
My vacation was very nice, thanks for asking. Though I am very glad to be home again. I missed my mom and my sister.  
And also, my laptop, in which my very soul is stored. :)

So, this chapter contains absolutely no plot value at all except for that Courtney is kind of sick. There. Sorry. Spoiled the chapter for you. Courtney's sick.  
Still, you should read it anyways. Because, hell, an update's and update. :)

I DO want to say that I'm sorry it took so long, though. I expected to update before I left for Ohio, but the opportunity just didn't arise. My home internet is STILL not back, and I'm only getting this to you because my aunt has one of those portable internet card things. She's leaving for Ohio again tomorrow, though, so this'll be gone soon.

Now, if I may ask a favor of you guys, I need your help. See, next year, after I GRADUATE HIGH SCHOOL, I'm going on a foreign exchange trip to Germany. And I was thinking, "Hey, since I'm already in Europe, why not make a vacation out of it?" And decided that it would be a good idea for me to go from Germany (where I'll be for three weeks) to England (for about a week). See, I think this is a great idea. For one thing, I need the experience being alone in a foreign country, since I'm studying linguistics/foreign languages (so that I can be a translator). I also need to get used to living alone in a big city, since the only few colleges I'm applying to are in big cities, relatively far from home. I've ALSO wanted to go to England my entire life. I'll also be seventeen (turning eighteen in barely a month) at that point. I'll also be able to pay for it myself, including airfare, a place to stay, food, etc. Every last penny.  
But when I brought the idea up to my mom, I was completely shot down. She didn't even say she would think about it. Just NO. It broke my little heart.

I want your opinion. And don't just say 'yes, if it means you update faster.' :P  
Do you think I should be allowed to go?

If not, kindly include why not. I won't bite your head off. I just can't see why she wouldn't let me. I'm a mature, responsible young adult...

If so, kindly include what I should use to smack my mother for being wrong. :)

I'm kidding. I swear. :P

That being said, I have nothing else to say except that TDI should be updated... eh... soon-ish, and PDC will be updated before that. :)  
Enjoy the filler!

* * *

When I woke up the next morning, I looked at the alarm clock next to my table, and literally jumped when I realized it was almost noon. I scrambled out of my bed and into my clothes (a pair of tan shorts and a dark brown tank top) and downstairs in barely five minutes. I stepped out into the sunlight and immediately squinted. I raised my arm over my eyes to shade them, and looked around.

It was immediately clear to me why it was so blindingly bright outside; barely a few feet outside the door was a very large pool, which was shining light back so potently that the water looked opaque. The pool wrapped around a small hot tub, and directly across from me, I saw a small bar with a canopy overhead built into the pool floor. Around the pool were a bunch of lounge chairs, in which sat Eva, Cody, Justin, Katie and Sadie. Beth, Noah and Ezekiel were sitting at the bar, and Izzy and Tyler were in the pool. Izzy was snorkeling around, and Tyler was swimming (very crooked) laps. When I stepped outside, Beth looked over to me and waved, wearing a sincere smile. I smiled, and waved back.

I wasn't exactly sure what to do then. I did like to swim, but I didn't really like to do it without a friend around, and I definitely didn't like to do it in the same pool as Izzy. It wasn't that I disliked her, per se; to tell the truth, I was kind of intimidated by her. Calling to me from my left, Eva distracted my thoughts for a few minutes, saying, "Good job on the rec room, Courtney. I didn't think you had it in you."

I grinned wryly, not sure if she was being sarcastic or sincere. But then, it was Eva; I took it as a compliment. "Thanks. I didn't think I had it in me, either." Then I shrugged, just in case I was wrong. "Sorry about that, by the way."

"It's fine. All that stuff'll be put back by tomorrow anyways. The producers are obligated to keep us all entertained until the week after the finale. Plus, they have a butt load of money to do it, so it's no big deal." Cody said, grinning. He didn't look at me while he spoke; he just crossed his still-casted arms behind his head. His torso was clear of casts or bandages, but his head was still slightly wrapped up, and he had an Ace bandage around one ankle. I was surprised at how quickly he'd healed, but didn't let it show on my face.

Beth jumped in. "Yea, they athumed we'd all be mad after arriving here, so they allocated thouthandth of dollarth to replathing dethtroyed thtuff." I didn't really mind Beth, because she'd always been nice to me and respectful to everyone else, but I always had to wonder why she insisted on using so many words that had 's' sounds in them.

I nodded, and looked around, finally taking notice of the surroundings. It really was a beautiful place, and no amount of spite or unwillingness could prevent me from admitting it. And there was a lot of things to do, and to drink, and to eat. But spite still allowed me to mope around for a while. The others told me that it was pretty normal, and that they all moped around for the first couple days, too.

I spent the whole day laying on one of the lounge chairs, reading. Aside from the beautiful pool and the once-well-stocked rec room, the Playa des Losers also had a magnificent library, a very large indoor kitchen, several different sport courts, and the lake just down the dock, on which sat even more lounge chairs. Here, we were left completely to our own devices; we'd been told there wasn't a single adult on this island, though I wasn't so sure I believed it.

In the afternoon, and then at the beginning of the evening, Beth had taken the initiative to make food for the rest of us. She was a good cook, but I only ate a little both times. For lunch, I had half of a grilled cheese sandwich, and for dinner, almost a whole slice of pizza. My stomach hadn't yet realized that it was off the island, and wouldn't immediately want to reject everything it just took in, so I decided not to force it.

Later into the evening, I finally decided I would go for a swim, since Izzy decided she was bored in the pool, choosing instead to go stalking around the library, jumping up behind people and spooking them. I went up to my room, changed into my bathing suit, and walked back down. As I passed it, I looked at the door into the room next to mine. I vaguely wondered who would be occupying it, in just a few short days.

It wasn't until then (and I wanted to smack myself in the forehead for not having realized it earlier), that I realized, win or lose, Duncan would eventually be coming to this island, and, despite that I was still angry at Harold, I managed to brighten up. It wasn't a completely lost cause. I would see him again.

I managed to stay happy for a little while, even though Cody attempted (pathetically and in vain) to flirt with me, and even though Eva lost her temper and almost threw the grill into the water, and even though Beth's idea of conversation unfortunately involved me getting covered in spit. I didn't hear a word of it. I didn't get angry. I barely registered anything other than the thought that, soon enough, I would see him again.

* * *

That night, around eight o'clock, I entered the library to return the book I'd borrowed, when I noticed something I hadn't before; there was an upstairs to the library. Curiously, I walked up the stairs to notice a small computer lab, equipped with five computers. Smiling a small smile, I entered the room and turned one of them on. It started up quickly.

I checked my email first. I had several notifications from several different networking websites that I only rarely went on, and deleted those first. I sorted out the junk, and sent that to the junk folder and emptied it. Then I looked at the rest of my email.

I read an email from my younger cousin that she'd sent to me just after I arrived at the island. She was only six or seven, and could barely spell, let alone type, so it was difficult to make out what she was saying. But I got the gist of it; she thought it was so cool that I was going to be on TV, and would be excited to visit afterwards so that I could tell her all the details of being a TV star. I smiled, and sent a reply, saying that I was excited to see her again, too, but that being a TV star wasn't all that it was cracked up to be. Maybe it was a little harsh to tell her that, but I wasn't really thinking that the moment, growing too tired to put more than five coherent thoughts together.

The next four emails were from my parents. It was pretty standard; what are you doing, how are you, how's the competition, stuff like that. I was dreading telling them that I'd lost. Extra French lessons for a month, I was sure. But I responded, telling them that I was okay, that I hadn't been able to check my email before that, that I'd lost, and what happened. I debated for a minute if I should tell them about Duncan, but I decided to wait. I wasn't sure how we'd act around each other when he got here. I didn't know him for very long, and I would be kidding myself if I said that I knew him very well. I didn't know if he'd treat what we had like a fling, and I didn't want to get them all excited (or myself, but I omitted that part from my thoughts) over something that would end up being nothing. Besides, the episodes weren't airing yet, so they wouldn't know to ask questions about what happened off-screen.

Apart from that, I told them that I loved them, and missed them, and that I would see them when I got home, then hit the send key.

The next two emails were from two of my friends, who were asking me about what I was doing, if there were any cute guys and how I was handling the competitions. I responded to both of them in the same email; currently, I wasn't doing anything, as I got voted off because of a nerd. There were a few cute guys, and I was… sort of involved with one of them, and that I'd handled the competitions alright, but it was the downtime that had had me worried.

The last email was from a teacher, giving me instructions on my last piece of summer homework. It was for my math class, and I would have it done in ten minutes when I got home. I saved the email, then logged out, and shut off the computer.

* * *

I reached my room by quarter to nine, but I wasn't really tired yet. I went into the mini-fridge and grabbed the apple juice that I'd opened yesterday before taking a bath. I shook it and drank almost a quarter of it before closing it and bringing it with me onto my bed. I stretched out on top of my covers and shut my eyes. I took a few deep breaths before reopening my eyes and finding that nothing had changed. I didn't really expect it to. I just kind of hoped that when I opened my eyes, I'd be a little bit less lonely.

Loneliness had been nagging at me for a few hours once the happiness had worn off, gnawing at my stomach and chest, leaving me feeling empty. Cody's awful attempts at flirting with me only reminded me of Duncan. I missed his teasing. I missed his arrogance, his sarcasm, his wit. I missed his voice, calling out his stupid pet name for me, Princess. I missed his blue eyes, and his spiked collar necklace, and his goatee, and his green Mohawk, and his red Chucks. I missed his cold hands, and his cute smile, and…

I missed him, and even though it meant he would have lost, I wanted him here. Even if it was only a fling. Even if getting with me had only been a game for him. Just to see him. Just to know what it meant to him. I wanted to know if I could let him go. I wanted to know if I should. It was driving me crazy!

Sighing, in an attempt to distract myself, I decided to go bathe. I exhaustedly debated for a minute if I wanted to take a shower, or a bath. I normally shower, but, hey, I was on vacation! Why not relax now while I had the chance? However, I decided on a shower, because I didn't want to waste any time relaxing. Relaxing meant I had time to think, and I was trying to avoid that for the time being.

I showered quickly, and dried off, and dressed, and blow-dried my hair, and brushed my teeth, and jumped onto my bed. Again, I stretched out, and, like I'd done in the bath yesterday, I slowly tensed and released all the muscles in my body starting at my feet. After that, I sat up, folded my legs Indian style, and took deep breaths, falling slowly into a deep meditation. However, every time I tried clearing my mind, I would think of Duncan. It happened several times; I'd just become aware of my lack of thoughts when his face popped back into mind. Frustrated, I gave up, and went to bed without meditating.

* * *

That night, for the first time in years, I had a dream. And because fate likes to tease me, he was in it.

I was back on the island, sitting in my bunk, when I heard a knock on the cabin door. I opened the door to find Duncan there, and he grinned at me, and grabbed my arm, and gently tugged me, signaling for me to follow him. I followed him all the way to the beach, where he shed his shirt and shorts (wearing his swim trunks underneath it), and, still wearing his shoes, jumped into the water. I stood on the beach and watched him as he splashed around for a bit, before calling me to join him. I yelled back that I wasn't wearing my bathing suit. He smiled slyly, and said, "All the better!"

I rolled my eyes, smiled, and, with my heart was pounding, took off my shirt and shorts, too, though, unlike him, I took off my shoes. Surprisingly, I was actually wearing my bathing suit. I walked onto the dock, slowly, and looked at the water. It looked cold. I was hesitant.

Then, suddenly, he was behind me, clutching my shoulders, saying, "It's now or never, Princess." Then he pushed me in, and jumped in after me.

I didn't feel the water around me. It just felt like I was floating. I could even breathe under the water, so I turned to face him, and he was smiling at me. I smiled back. Suddenly, he reached out for me, grabbed my face, and pulled me to him, pressing his lips firmly against mine.

Or at least, I'm sure that's what would have happened if I hadn't gasped and woken up just before our lips touched. For about two seconds, I thought he was still there, hovering over me. Then, just as soon, I realized he wasn't; that he was still on the other island, three miles away from me, and immediately, I felt foolish. I looked at the clock to find that it was only two-thirty. I groaned and dropped my head back on my pillow heavily, making a muffled 'thump.'

It took me a long time to fall back asleep, and I slept fitfully for the rest of the night. When I woke up the next morning at seven thirty, I felt like I'd been awake the whole time. My head hurt and my stomach quaked, and the symptoms only worsened when I remembered exactly why.

* * *

I spent the whole day inside, reading one of my own books. When I finished the book, I looked at the essay that Duncan had helped me write weeks ago, checked over it three times for spelling and grammar errors, found none, and then put it away before pulling out another book.

At about one thirty in the afternoon, Beth came up to see if I was still alive. She stayed for a little while, and we had a short chat about the competition. And even though I felt really bad for thinking it, I sat there the whole time, really wishing that she would go away. I wasn't in the mood to be around anybody. She must have sensed it, too, because half an hour later, she said, "Well, you probably want to be alone right now, tho I'll thee you later." Then she gave me a small smile, and left, shutting the door carefully behind her.

I took a deep breath, walked over to the edge of my bed and plopped down. I still hadn't eaten yet, making it two meals in now five days. I groaned. I knew I should eat. I knew it was bad to go this long without food. But I could neither get myself to walk over to the kitchen nor think about food without feeling nauseous. Instead, I shoved my head into my pillow and took a few deep breaths, slowly trying to relax myself enough to fall asleep. I knew it wouldn't make any difference, because I would still dream, and it would be about him, and I wouldn't feel any better, but I figured any sleep was better than none.

I ended up napping for about an hour before he tried to kiss me, and I woke up again, feeling predictably worse than I did before I fell asleep. I groaned. My head was pounding. I stood up and almost sat back down from sudden blinding dizziness.

Staggering, I slumped over to my mini-fridge, grabbed an apple, and set about eating it, or at the very least, attempting to. I took barely five bites of it before giving up.

I sighed as I cut off the part that I'd bitten into. I was weird about saving food. I would save anything that I hadn't already touched. After cutting out the bitten part, I put the rest into a small zipper baggie. Pushing as much air out of it as I could, I zipped the baggie shut and put it in the fridge on the top shelf. I would eat it later; no sense wasting it.

After my poor attempt at eating, I wasn't really sure what to do. I was bored, but I didn't want to leave my room yet. So, instead, I took out the journal that I'd brought to use for loose paper, and started writing. I didn't really write about anything; I just scribbled out whatever random thoughts were floating around in my head at the time. That lasted about two hours. When I was finished, I tore the page up into little pieces and threw the pieces in the waste bin.

I laid my head back down on my bed, and closed my eyes. I felt bad. My head was in pain, my stomach was in knots, and my eyes were tired, and it was still only about seven thirty. I wasn't really sure what to do. I'd exhausted every means of self-occupation that the simple room had to offer, and was now left with nothing. I was starting to wish I'd brought my iPod. I would have been easier for me to clear my mind if I had something to distract my thoughts.

I spent the rest of the evening laying on my bed, attempting fruitlessly to clear my mind, and, in the middle of attempt number twelve, I fell asleep. I still slept fitfully, waking up frequently, but, fortunately, I didn't dream.


	4. The First Challenge

**A/N:** I forget sometimes that there is so much in this world to be thankful for.

Enjoy the chapter.

* * *

When I woke up the next morning, the first thing to pop into my head was that this would be the first day there was a challenge, and I wasn't there to compete. Needless to say, combining my first thought of the morning with the fact that I hadn't slept well nor eaten well for almost a week now, it was a miserable morning.

Despite the fact that I didn't feel even remotely hungry, I grabbed the apple that I'd attempted to eat last night, and took it out of the plastic baggie. It hadn't gone completely brown yet, though it was definitely looking a little less healthy than when I had left it. Regardless, I took a small bite out of it, testing to see if I would be able to hang onto it, not feeling very capable. I chewed thoughtfully, and carefully swallowed the small bite and waited for a minute. I did this several times, gently biting small bites and waiting in between. I got seven small bites before I was certain I wouldn't be able to hold another one.

I headed to the bathroom to take a shower, since I hadn't yesterday. I showered quickly. I felt dizzy standing up for too long. In fact, I almost fell over while in the shower, and would have if there hadn't been a handle directly in front of me. I wondered what would happen if I'd fallen. I knew for a fact that nobody would find me for at least a couple of days. Beth would come up after a few hours to check and see if I was awake, and, on hearing no answer, would assume I was still sleeping, and would leave. But after a few days of this, she might get suspicious and come in. Maybe. But at that point, I would have bled out, and it would have been too late.

Then, I shook my head and wondered what could possibly be wrong with me that I was thinking such morbid thoughts. I grinned, thinking, '_Duncan must have been rubbing off on you._' Then I frowned, and felt a small pang of loneliness in my chest.

Not entirely certain I was completely rinsed off, I turned off the water and stepped out. Again, I almost fell, and had to grab my shower curtain for support. I dried off, and dressed into my bathing suit, deciding I would go lay outside with the others for a while. There was no reason for me to stay cooped up inside, especially if I was so restless and lonely.

I grabbed my towel and headed downstairs. The elevator was still broken, so I had to take the stairs. I exercised caution on the stairs; the very last thing I needed was some disfigurement or other when Duncan came back.

I headed outside to find only Eva and Noah outside. Noah was, as always, sitting at the drink bar, reading a book and dipping his feet in the water, and Eva was lifting weights. Neither of them took any notice of me except to glance over to see who came out. I walked over to one of the lounge chairs, put my towel down, then sat on it, and closed my eyes.

It was hot outside; much hotter than inside. I'd only been outside for a couple minutes before I could feel myself starting to sweat a little bit. But it wasn't a stifling heat; it was the kind of hot where you feel like you're under a warm blanket. I settled myself to be reclining more into the chair, and I felt really comfortable; much more comfortable than I had while I was inside. So comfortable, I managed to fall asleep.

* * *

The most embarrassing part about falling asleep, in the middle of the day, outside isn't the falling asleep part. It's the fact that, if you dream, it's inevitable that, as long as there are people outside, you're going to talk in your sleep, even if—**especially** if—you're not one to normally talk in your sleep.

As it were, I had a dream while I was sleeping in that chair. And, because, God forbid I ever spend a day actually hoping to stay outside for a while, it was about Duncan. Which means that I said something in my sleep that, when I woke up, caused everybody who'd heard me to cough in a poor attempt to hide a laugh.

I turned to Beth, who had, while I was asleep, moved into the chair two to my right. "What did I say?" I asked embarrassedly.

She gave me an apologetic smile before saying, "Well, you thaid Duncan'th name a lot. Then you thaid 'love' a whole lot." She shrugged. "But, the good newth ith, not everybody heard you."

I looked around and saw that the only people snickering were Noah, Ezekiel and Eva. Katie and Sadie, Tyler and Justin were either still asleep, or off somewhere else. I sighed heavily. "It doesn't really matter anyways. I mean, I guess it's not really a secret, is it?" I asked her, sounding a little bitter. I sighed again, and said, "I think I'm going to go inside."

Beth looked at me in concern. "Are you okay? You've been thpending a lot of time inthide. I mean, I know you were really into the competition, and I know being away from Duncan probably ithn't making you feel any better, but..."

I gave her a small smile. "Yea, I'm alright. It doesn't have anything to do with Duncan or the competition, but I haven't been feeling my best the past couple of days." She looked at me with more concern before I shook my head. "But it's fine. Nothing some sleep won't fix. I'll be okay. Thank you for asking." She nodded, and turned back to lay down, and I headed inside.

Just as I was about to close the door, she called back, "Oh, Courtney!" I leaned backwards a bit to look at her, almost losing my balance. "Later, after the competithion ith done, they show uth the footage of the day'th challenge. Do you want to watch it?"

For a second, I wasn't sure what she was talking about. My mind, exhausted into stupidity, wasn't letting the information make sense. Then, because Duncan just wouldn't leave my mind alone, I realized that we would be able to watch the competition from here. I would see him! I could see how he was taking my absence, and see if he really missed me, or if I was just a fling. So I told Beth that I would watch, and that if I didn't come down by dinner time, that she should just come up and get me. If I didn't answer, she was to come in and wake me up. I would leave my door unlocked. She agreed, and I headed upstairs.

I was certain that whatever was wrong with me could only be cured by sleep. And now, at the prospect of seeing Duncan again, even if it was only on TV, I felt simultaneously exhausted and ravenous. As I ran upstairs, letting my towel drag along on the floor behind me, I decided to prioritize. Sleep first. I could go much longer without food than without sleep. I could eat when I woke up.

So, still in my bathing suit, I went straight to bed, and slept soundly for the first time in several days. I didn't dream. And I didn't wake up until I felt Beth shaking me.

* * *

"Courtney! Courtney, wake up!"

I hummed confusedly, still groggy and thick-headed. I didn't have an idea what was going on. The last thing I remembered was thinking that I would be seeing Duncan soon. Then, in my haze of a head, I assumed that it was Duncan shaking me awake, and said, "Duncan?"

Beth chuckled, and said, "No, Courtney, it'th Beth. Come on. The footage from thith week ith thtarting thoon."

I sat up, rubbed my eyes, and looked around me. I had forgotten for a minute where I was; the last time I had slept soundly was the day before the challenge in which I'd been eliminated. I hadn't even slept soundly in the boathouse with Duncan; I didn't wake up the whole time, but it was uncomfortable enough to keep me from really feeling refreshed when I woke up.

Beth said, "Come on, Courtney. Put on thome PJ'th and let'th go!"

I looked at her strangely. Pajamas? Why?

Then I looked outside and realized that it was really dark outside. "What time is it?" I asked her confusedly.

She looked at her watch, grinned, and said, "Well, you went upstairs around one thirty, and it's almost ten thirty now."

My eyes widened quickly, and I jumped out of bed and into pajamas. I put on socks and shoes in barely a minute, and Beth and I ran downstairs.

"Don't worry, though. Chrith doethn't thtart the video until everybody get'th there." She said, right behind me as we jumped down the stairs.

* * *

Once we got to the first floor, I realized I had no idea where to go. Beth did, though. "Cody led me here the first time I came." She said, as she led me towards the recreation room.

I cautiously entered the room to find that it was in almost perfect condition. There was simply the matter of a small piece of wall that should have been there and wasn't. I looked at the hole in the wall and wondered what they were going to do about it. Almost as if he read my mind, Chris, who was in the exact same place he'd stood as when he showed me the video of Harold, said, "They're getting the plaster for it tomorrow." I nodded.

Then he grinned deviously. "Good evening, losers. I expect your stay at Playa des Losers has been pleasant?" Nobody said anything, and he pouted. "Well, then, fiiiiiiiine. This week, we had a bit of a relay as a challenge. We called it 'Extreme Torture!'" He said, sounding quite proud of himself. Nobody said anything. He went on. "Alright. This week's challenge was pretty quick. Nobody really went into the confessional that much, so you guys should be out of here by about... oh, eleven thirty?" He looked at his watch, then hit the play button on the DVD player. "Enjoy."

* * *

It was weird to see the uncut episodes. It never really draws your attention while they're filming, because, as a competitor, it's more common to be worried about whatever torture the producers have in mind for you that week, and it's easy to forget about all the little things they have to do while filming. Like the clapboard before a scene starts. I had only noticed that at the beginning, when we had first got there. By the first challenge, the entire camera crew just sort of left my mind.

It started in the beginning of the day, when the cameras had set up in the cabins. Duncan was sitting on his bed, listening to his iPod, smiling slightly in his sleep. It was kind of cute.

The angles shifted constantly, and I knew that the episode had only been touched a little bit, to put the clips in order, but I still grew frustrated every time Duncan wasn't on the screen.

However, when he was on the screen, I watched him like a hawk. I noticed his every facial expression, every movement. I watched out for any signs of him missing me, or of him being relieved I was gone. Both fortunately and unfortunately, I saw neither.

Although, I have to admit, when I saw the look on his face when Lindsay came out in her new bikini (shock, and I would go so far as to say disgust), I felt a little bit better. Sure, I didn't have any confirmation for myself yet, but at least he hasn't shown any interest in any of the other girls. And when Gwen and Bridgette were discussing who the haiku was for, they eliminated Duncan right off the bat. So, while I wasn't completely relieved yet, I did feel a little bit better.

Another thing about watching the episodes that I hadn't anticipated was how angry I got every time I saw Harold. It didn't matter if he was just standing in the distance or if he was actually talking. If he attracted my eye, I felt nothing but raw black rage in the pit of my stomach. So much so that I wanted to swim to the island, scout out his nerdy face and kick it into the ground. Which was strange for me; while I have been known to be a little... well, violent, it was never directed at one single person as much as it was at Harold. If he won the competition, I would never forgive myself.

As his challenge went on, though, I realized that that wouldn't be a problem. That fluke with Heather's shirt (which was, fortunately, censored out by the time it reached us) wasn't caught by everybody else; that would definitely bring him down a bit in the rest of the team's eyes. Because the Bass weren't going to win now. Knowing Lindsay even a little bit, it was obvious she was used to water-skiing, or had at least done it before. She would get at least one flag. That was for certain.

My prediction proved correct; Lindsay won the competition for the Gophers. But I wasn't disappointed. In fact, I was a little bit anxious now. It would come down to Duncan or Harold, and that was a win-win for me. If Duncan came back, well, all my questions would be answered. But if Harold came back, I would be able to get my revenge that much faster.

And, as much as I wanted revenge—more than I'd ever wanted anything in the world—I wanted Duncan to come back even more. Even if it meant he lost the competition. Even if it meant he was angry for a couple days. I wanted him here, selfish or not.

Then, I watched as Duncan hit a rock and went flying through the air into a tree. I, quite literally, stood up and screamed, putting my hands to my face in horror. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't see anything other than the TV. After a few seconds, though, he climbed down, shook his limbs a bit, shrugged, and walked away, looking angry. I sat down, turning red, now noticing all the weird looks I was getting from the others.

I was just as surprised as everybody else when we learned that LeShawna was the crush-girl. I honestly expected it to have been for Gwen, from Trent; of everybody there, he was the only one who would have. The only one who could have! Like they said, Duncan had been crushing on me, so, even if it WAS just a fling, he wouldn't start hitting on someone else. He wasn't stupid. It couldn't have been Owen or Geoff, and it wasn't DJ. Harold was too nerdy to possibly do anything that could even possibly attract a girl. So who was it?

Finally, it was time for the Bonfire Ceremony. For the first time, Duncan looked a little depressed. I wondered if it was because he knew he might be getting voted off, or if he was thinking about me. Then, when Chris started calling him out, I watched him as his face betrayed more and more anger until he got up and grabbed the front of Chris' shirt in his fist. I never realized it before, but Duncan was significantly taller than Chris...

Up until that point, I watched, and held my breath. Who was coming here next? Duncan, the guy I was practically in love with, or Harold, the guy I wanted to beat into a pulp?

"The chick... was determined." Duncan said, through clenched teeth, getting right up in Chris' face. I noticed Chris, still standing in the same place he'd been standing the whole evening, reached up and fix his shirt. I wasn't sure if he was even aware of doing it.

"Which... is why you're safe." Chris said.

My heart sank farther and faster than I thought was even possible.

In my heart's place was a flaming black ball of rage. Harold would be coming tonight.

He was going to die.


	5. Revenge And Relief

**A/N:** Hey guys. Sorry about the slightly short pause there. I went camping. :) It was a pleasant surprise from a friend of mine, a sort of month-early birthday present.

Anyways, the chapter. Not a favorite of mine, to be honest. It's the kind of chapter that has to fit too much, but has to have all of it here. You know?  
It was a total pain in the butt to try to write it, believe you me. I spent several hours on it, trying to make it sound better and fit better, but no dice. Things still ended up sounding choppy. I was not a fan.

Uh, hm. Oh! My internet's coming back next Wednesday, so I'll **finally** be able to reply to your reviews again! Believe me, guys, I'm so excited for that. I always feel terrible when I get these beautiful reviews and I can't reply to them because I'm at the library, or at a friend's house or something. ;.;  
But soon, I'll be able to again!!! I'm so excited!!

There's a few swears in this one, I think. Again, I'm sure this story is rated T (it's five in the morning right now, forgive me for not remembering. :P), so if you feel like you're going to have a heart attack because someone says the F word, then you're obviously reading the wrong story.  
Also, Facebook belongs to whoever created Facebook. Facebook is not an invention of mine. But then, if you don't know that, then you've been living under a friggen rock.

Oh, yea. I broke canon.  
But don't get excited. It's nothing to get excited about.  
I know some of you absolutely **love** the idea of Courtney beating Harold senseless with a lamppost, but, to be honest, I don't really like the idea. Therefore, she just roughs him up a bit in this chapter and--**ow**!

Sorry. My leg just suddenly cramped up.

What?

Anyways, she just roughs him up a bit in this chapter and then ignores him for the rest of the story. Seriously, the most we'll hear from Harold is a random comment not directed at Courtney, or that she still hates him but will ignore him.  
Which means that Whats-its-face chapter is going to be changed up a bit.  
I'll make you a promise now, though: I will keep their little slap-fight in at the end. Kay? :)

Holy long Author's Note!  
Enjoy the chapter!!

* * *

I wasn't sure what I wanted to do now.

Harold had been the secret admirer, and LeShawna the crush-girl. Harold was my new sworn enemy, LeShawna a good friend. Did I do what I wanted and pound Harold into the dirt, betraying LeShawna, who, for some reason or another, seemed to like Harold? Or do I let Harold go this one time for the sake of a friend? I was at a complete loss. I would have to sleep on it to decide, even though I was almost completely sure of what I would do. But still. I wanted to give it a bit more time, just in case I might end up feeling guilty for robbing LeShawna of a potential future boyfriend.

To distract my thoughts for a while, I went to the kitchen just in front of the library and grabbed a box of graham crackers. Now that I'd gotten decent sleep, I was starving. It had to have been a little more than a week since I'd eaten properly. I brought the box of graham crackers with me to the computer room in the library. Noah was in there, too, but we paid each other no mind.

I logged into my email to find that I had seven messages. Two of them were junk, which I immediately sent to the junk folder and deleted. One of them was from my little cousin, one from my parents, two from my friends, and one from another teacher regarding summer assignments. I checked that one first.

Apparently, the teacher had accidentally sent out the wrong assignment, and had to change it. That was alright with me; I hadn't even started the assignment yet. I deleted it, then went to the letter from my little cousin.

She was still excited about coming to visit me once I got home. She also denied the idea that being a TV star wasn't that great, and that I'd just have to wait until the show aired for it to really kick up. I sent a reply back, telling her that she was probably right, and that I would see her when I got home. Then I deleted her email, and moved on to the one from my parents.

Again, their letter was pretty standard. They loved me, and missed me, and hoped I was having a good time. I was surprised to find that they were disappointed for me, not disappointed in me. No extra French! They went on to say that they'd been informed of the manner of my removal from the show, and that they were very angry about this. They suggested that I get in contact with my lawyer on Monday (it was Friday now, too late to call his office), as I could now sue the show for wrongful termination of competition. I decided I would take their advice, and made a mental note to dig my rarely-used cell phone from my bag and make the call on Monday.

They were also excited to see the show air. It would be starting in about a week. They hoped to see me conducting myself honestly and sincerely. I replied back, telling them that I loved and missed them, too, and that they would be very proud of my behavior on the island. Again, I debated telling them about Duncan, and again, decided not to. Not yet. Not for a couple weeks. I sent the letter, deleted theirs, and moved on.

The two letters from my friends were exactly the same. They'd ignored everything else I'd written except that I met a guy here. They asked me who it was, what he was like, what he looked like, and basically everything we'd ever said to each other ever. I told them that his name was Duncan and that he dressed like a punk and had a green mohawk. I told them that he was arrogant and crude and obnoxious and sweet and that I wasn't sure if we were a 'thing' or not, but that I would wait and see, and that I would tell them as soon as I was sure. I ignored the last part of their request; trying to remember specific conversations was more than I felt comfortable or capable doing. Then I sent the replies and deleted the last two emails before signing out.

Then I decided to log into my Facebook. Once it loaded, I was surprised to find that I had 367 friend requests, 692 messages and 1283 updates. I almost fell out of my chair.

I clicked the friend requests button, and scrolled through pages and pages of people I'd never met before. Some of them included messages saying, "I saw you on previews for Total Drama Island and thought you looked pretty cool so I added you" or something similar. Some of them didn't. Many of them were people significantly older or younger than me. I went through and denied all of them. I didn't want strangers feeling as though they were a part of my life. Seven or eight of them were people who went to my school, or were friends of my family, so I added them, but everybody else was denied.

Then I checked the messages. Not a single one from somebody I knew. I read half of them. They were all essentially the same. "I saw you on previews for Total Drama Island. What's up? How is it?" Stuff like that. I didn't reply to a single one, and deleted all of them.

I gulped before clicking the updates. Some of them were notices of my friends replying to my last update. Most of them were people writing on my wall. Again, it was all the same. I removed them all. Overall, the process took nearly two hours, and I had gone through the entire box of graham crackers. At long last, I logged out of my Facebook before checking my email one more time. I didn't have any new messages, so I shut the computer down and headed into the library.

I decided to look for a book to keep myself occupied. I wouldn't be falling asleep any time soon, but I didn't want to be kept up thinking about the revenge I would most likely take on Harold. I would sleep on it. Dream about it. Wake up and mull it over before really deciding. So I walked around the library, looking at titles and authors. I'd read a lot of them already, but I did come across a new one every so often. Eventually I decided on a nonfiction book about psychology.

While I was walking out, another book caught my eye. I walked back and looked at it. It was another psychology book, one about behavior in relation to emotions. I grabbed it. Maybe it would help me decipher Duncan's behavior in today's challenge. Maybe it wouldn't. It looked like it would be an interesting read regardless.

* * *

If the book was correct, Duncan did miss me. And now, Harold would die.

The more I read, the firmer I believed that Duncan was as depressed as I was, maybe even more so. It was a good book, and, as I'd expected, a very interesting read. It discussed how people always act happy even when they aren't. There are little things they do when they're sad that they may not notice they do. For example, they stare a lot when they're upset, and Duncan was doing a lot of that.

The book also listed a lot of little things that people do when they're happy, angry, jealous, bored, or any other emotion, things that the people don't even realize they do. And while I read, I noticed the same things myself, and was surprised to find that I was guilty of doing a lot of them.

I finished the book by three in the morning, feeling pleasantly exhausted and, for what felt like the first time in my life, not hungry or sick. Purposely not meditating, I fell asleep, ready to dream about whether or not I would murder Harold, reaching my decision long before I fell asleep.

* * *

I did dream, and I was pleased, upon waking, to realize that my subconscious wanted revenge just as much as my conscious mind did.

Duncan and I were walking through the forest back on the island before we were suddenly in my backyard. But my yard was bigger, and full of random sections of wall, and small tube-like structures. And we were wearing helmets, goggles and protective clothing, and in both our hands was a paintball gun. When we looked up, Harold, Chris and Chef were standing there, unarmed and without protective equipment. Duncan and I let loose on them, and they ran around, diving behind walls and weird tube-things. Our paint was blood-red, making very aesthetically pleasing paint splotches all over the place, mostly on our three moving targets.

When I woke up, I showered. I dried my hair. I dressed in comfortable shorts, a tank-top and sneakers. I made myself a small, light breakfast, even though it was one in the afternoon. I was perfectly calm as I went about my business. Today would be a very taxing day, and I didn't want to waste any of my energy on mundane daily tasks. Finally, the rage in my heart would not be suppressed any longer, and I left my room.

Upon first entering the hallway, I finally realized that Harold and I would share the floor. I grinned. He wouldn't be able to hide from me now.

I headed downstairs and outside. It was a bright day, but very cloudy. That was perfect. My vision wouldn't be impaired by some sun in my eyes, but it was bright enough to see perfectly clearly. I looked around the pool to find Cody, Eva, Katie, Sadie and Izzy in the pool or lounging around it. So I headed to the kitchen, where Beth was cooking lunch, Ezekiel watching. They were talking about something or other, but I didn't pay them any attention except to wave back at them when they waved at me. Then I went to the library. Noah was sitting in there, alone. I checked the computer room. Justin was in there, also alone.

I checked the sports courts. Tyler was there, shooting basketball hoops. Or trying to, at least. I went to the dock. I went to the rec room. I checked the washrooms. I went back to the library. No sign of him.

Sighing in exasperation, I sat down in the kitchen where Beth was putting the finishing touches on lunch, now alone.

"What'th the matter, Courtney?" She asked, focusing on her frying pan.

"You haven't seen Harold anywhere, have you?" I asked, slumped forward with my head in my hands and my elbows on the counter.

She shook her head. "No. He'th probably thtill athleep in hith room. Why?" Then she looked wary. "Are you going to confront him?"

"Of course I am! He deserves it, too, for getting me kicked off, the little worm." I scowled. Then I stood up. "Do you need some help getting this stuff outside?"

She nodded, handing me a plate of what I assumed was lettuce and tomato, and a bowl with cut-up fruit in it. "I made hamburgerth, macaroni thalad and fruit thalad." She grabbed a plate with hamburgers on it and a plate with rolls on it. "I'll have to come back in for the macaroni thalad, but that'th fine." She said. We carried the food outside, and she ran back in for the macaroni salad, and we all sat down to lunch.

It being the first cooked meal I'd had in far too long, I probably ate more than I should have. I had two hamburgers, two big scoops of macaroni salad and more fruit salad than I care to admit. But Beth seemed pleased that I had eaten, and I grinned at her, and said, "Told you I just needed to get some sleep."

She grinned and nodded, and I felt a little bit bad for lying. Not very bad. Just bad enough to make me wish I hadn't eaten quite so much. See, it wasn't the sleep that had done it. Being well-rested certainly helped just about every endeavor, but what had really made me feel better was both having a purpose and being slightly more sure that Duncan missed me.

I spent the rest of the day sitting outside waiting for Harold to come out. He might have actually been sleeping the whole time, but it was more likely that he knew I was on the rampage and opted to stick to his room. Or maybe he just spent all his time in the library that day, and I'd missed him. That, too, was likely. He was a nerd. The library would be a safe haven to him.

That night, I went to bed feeling a little irritated. Not today. But it gave me more incentive to go to bed immediately, and I showered quickly, meditated for a long time, and slept dreamlessly.

* * *

I woke up early that morning, feeling better now that I'd woken up at a more reasonable time. I felt restless the second I'd become conscious, and I dressed at top speed, not bothering to eat. I headed downstairs to find Beth in the kitchen, preparing breakfast.

"Courtney! You're up early. Thleep well?"

I nodded. "Yes I did. Thanks for asking." I smiled at her, then looked at the frying pan. "What are you making?"

"Thauthage. I've got thith French toatht catherole thing baking in the oven. I made it the firtht morning I wath here, and everybody liked it. It'th got pecanth in it, and thinnamon and thugar. You'll like it." She said, fortunately having the sense to turn away from the pan as she spoke. I nodded.

"Thtill after Harold?" She asked, turning back to the pan after she spoke, and stirring the sausages around the pan. Deciding they'd cooked enough, she put them all on a plate before taking a package of bacon and putting it on the same pan. As the little circles began to sizzle, she covered the plate of sausage with a paper towel and put it in the microwave. She didn't turn it on. Why she did this, I had no idea; I couldn't cook to save my life. But I didn't ask her, and instead answered her question.

"Yea, I'm still waiting for him. He's got to come out of there eventually, and when he does, I'll be ready for him." I glared. "He's got to see it coming. He can't possibly think he was going to get away with this." I shook my head. "But whatever. I'm trying to retain my anger for right now. Not only do I have to deal with Harold, but I've also got to get in contact with my lawyer tomorrow, and that's never a pleasant experience."

"Your lawyer? What for?" She asked, poking at the bacon with her spatula.

"My parents suggested I sue the show for wrongful termination of competition." I told her. "Since Harold tampered with the votes, I was wrongfully kicked off the show. But the contract is pretty air-tight. Finding a loophole at this point might be tricky." I shook my head. "But still. I have a good lawyer. I'll send him a copy of my contract, and he'll find something to work with."

Beth nodded, and suddenly, there was a loud ding from the stove. "Oh! The French toatht ith done." She put on an oven mitt and took two pans out of the oven, one at a time. It smelled amazing, and looked even better. She set them on a wooden board next to the sink and sprinkled cinnamon and another spice over the top. "Nutmeg." She explained, noticing that I was squinting to see what else she had in her had. "Jutht a little bit." She said, opening the top and taking a pinch of it and sprinkling it all over the next tray. "Now all you'd need to add ith maple thyrup, and it'll be perfect."

Then she moved back to the stove and shook the pan back and forth before flipping the bacon slices with her spatula. A few minutes later, she put them on another plate and covered the plate with a paper towel. It reminded me of Duncan, and a familiar pang of loneliness struck my heart. She put the two pans on a large tray, as well as three bottles of maple syrup, a large bowl of cut-up strawberries and a shaker of powdered sugar. She looked at the two plates, one of sausage, the other of bacon, and looked at me, smiling apologetically. I nodded, and brought the two plates out.

Despite how early it felt to me, I was surprised to find that everybody else was already outside. I suppose it was just that my sleep schedule ran a little later than everybody else's. Beth ran around calling everybody to breakfast, and they all came immediately. While Beth herself didn't exactly attract new friends, her cooking was phenomenal, and had earned her a spot in everybody's good books. She was likeable enough, though she had a problem with being a little too eager in conversations sometimes. Still, she was a nice person, and a good cook, and as a result, made friends with just about everybody.

I had just sat down on a lounge chair with my plate when I saw him. There he stood at the door, looking tired and hungry, and heading over to the table. He made himself a plate, and sat down at a table and began to eat. I scalded my throat by practically inhaling my food (which was a shame, because, as Beth said, it was very good, and I would have enjoyed it more by eating it slower) before getting rid of my plate and sitting back in my chair and watching him. I would let him eat. I would let him enjoy his food. I would let him think he was safe. Then he would turn around, and notice me here, and then I would pounce.

It felt satisfying just to think about. To kick him. To punch him. To make him suffer physically the way I'd been suffering mentally. I'd take out all of my hatred and anger on his face. I would give him everything his karma owed him. I mean, sure Duncan had been picking on him. And sure, that wasn't fair to him. But to bring **me** into his feud with Duncan simply because we liked each other was beyond unfair, and now, he was going to pay.

* * *

He finally finished eating, but remained at the table for a few minutes longer, talking to Ezekiel. I had forgotten that they were friends during the first challenge. But finally, when he stood up, he turned and saw me, and froze. It was lucky the plates we'd been using were plastic, because he dropped his once he saw me get up.

I walked over to him, glaring fiercely, clenching my fists. We kept eye contact, and I saw the fear in his eyes. Something primal in me was pleased with this.

Suddenly, I was stopped by an arm encased in plaster. Cody had come between me and my prey, and the something primal in me snarled. "Hey, come on. I think we should just all calm down and simply talk about this like rational adults."

I continued to glare at him fiercely, and he just backed away. Out of my line of sight, Noah, Izzy and Eva looked excited, Katie, Sadie and Ezekiel looked scared, Beth looked concerned, and Tyler and Justin looked interested. But that was out of my sight, and therefore, out of my mind. All I cared about, all I saw, all I wanted was Harold's fear. And that's exactly what I got.

I was finally close enough to him to hit him if I wanted to. I wasn't by any means strong (we don't really do a lot of strength training in basketball, track or soccer; more endurance), but I was healthy, and I was fit, and I could throw a punch. However, I didn't. Yet.

Instead, I yelled.

"What the **hell** is your problem!?" I shouted in his face. I didn't care that I hadn't yet brushed my teeth that morning. I didn't care that my breath probably smelled really bad. In fact, for this one time, I hoped it did.

"I... He..." He muttered, unable to form a sentence. Probably unable to form a thought, too.

"I don't care what he did! If you had a problem with him, **take it up with him**! Don't bring observers into your battles!" Finally, I hit him. I smacked him in the face, then kicked him in the shin.

"Ow!" He shouted in his raspy voice after I kicked him.

I went on to shout at him, very loudly, and punch or smack or kick him every so often. Most of the time, I just shouted obscenities at him. Sometimes I asked him why he thought it would make him feel better to get me kicked out. I must have been at it for an hour before I finally grew hoarse and just kept hitting him on the shoulder with a plate.

When it seemed like I was out of anger, I stood there, panting, glaring at him. He looked at me suspiciously, wondering if I was still angry. When he figured that I either wouldn't hit him again or couldn't, he eased up and said, "Well, for what it's worth, I'm sorry, and—"

"Yea, because sorry gets me back in the competition." I growled breathlessly.

"Let me finish." He said calmly. As he spoke, I noticed the bruises forming on his arms. I didn't smile, but the something primal in me felt pleased. "For what it's worth," he repeated. "I'm sorry, and Duncan misses you."

I perked up now. "What?"

He smiled. "Duncan misses you. After you left, he stayed in his bed until the next challenge. He didn't eat, or talk to anybody. Then, during the challenge, whenever he wasn't needed, he just went back to his bunk."

I let that information process in my head. I got angry at Harold again, because it was his fault we both had to suffer like this. But I also felt other emotions; I was sad; I was relieved; I was lonely. But I was something else, too, something I couldn't identify. Something pleasant. I opened my mouth, not sure of what to say. So I shook my head and closed my mouth, and walked up to my room without saying another word to anybody else.

* * *

The more I thought about what Harold had told me, the more I felt that unidentified feeling. It made my heart race and my cheeks feel hot and my stomach churn. I was reminded of the feeling I'd felt when we spent the night in the boat house, only this time, the feeling was much... stronger. Was it love? I had said that it was, when we were in the boat house, but I wasn't sure at the time, and I was especially unsure now.

But he loved me. He missed me. He wanted me with him. I smiled. '_So it wasn't a fling._' I thought, grinning widely. I curled up into a small ball on my bed, on top of the sheets. The butterflies in my stomach made it uncomfortable. However, as uncomfortable as it was, I was also glad. I was relieved. I felt better than I had since I'd arrived to the Playa Des Losers. Because Duncan loved me. And it wasn't a fling.

I kept going around in circles in my head about how happy I was that I eventually fell into a short, dreamless nap.

* * *

When I woke up an hour later, I felt drained. Physically, I was fine. I was full, I was well-rested. But emotionally, I felt completely exhausted. Today had been too taxing on my feelings. First I was angry. Then I was relieved. Then I was in love, all three emotions having been taken to the very extreme.

Now, I just felt mellow. It was the perfect mood to go back downstairs in. I could face Harold. I could face Eva in a bad mood, or Beth in a chatty mood. I could face the world when I felt this mellow. So I brushed my teeth and headed downstairs.

Harold, Ezekiel, Izzy, Justin, Katie and Sadie were all in the pool. Beth and Noah were at the built-in bar, Eva was sitting by the pool with her feet dipped in, lifting weights, and Tyler was tossing a ball against a wall and catching it when it came back to him. It seemed to be the first physical activity that I'd ever seen him do without causing himself or anybody else physical harm.

When he realized I was outside, Harold looked nervous. But I ignored him, and went to the nearest lounge chair, put my towel down on it, and relaxed. It was a hot day, the kind of hot where you don't want to move for fear of heat stroke. But it was the best kind of hot day, in my opinion, because it meant that I could sit out and relax for hours.

And so, we all spent the day together, listening to the radio and chatting amongst ourselves. It was very relaxing, and, slowly, I found myself enjoying the Playa Des Losers.

The very air at the Playa in comparison to the island was different. At the island, you could try to relax, but you would never be completely calm, because, no matter how much you tried to forget it, you were competing, all the time. You always had to be alert, because of the bears and the Sasquatchanakwa. And you always had to worry that you were being lied to by someone you thought was your friend. But here, at the Playa, we had nothing to worry about. Since we no longer had anything to prove (what could we possibly have to prove, when none of us could survive in a competition?), we were friendlier. Since we didn't need to win people over to get their votes, we didn't have to lie to each other, and everyone's true colors really came out. There weren't any wild animals on this island, because, we learned from Chris, it was actually a vacation resort for most of the year, which was why it was so well stocked. And, since we weren't competing anymore, we could relax, and instead spend the time coping with the fact that none of us were getting one-hundred thousand dollars.

And we did manage to get over it. Or at least, everybody else did. I tried to let it go. I tried not to let it bother me. But the more I thought about it, the more I hated Harold for what he did, and the more I wished I was back in the competition. It had more to do with my competitive spirit than it did with Duncan, though Duncan's still being in the game definitely made me wish for it more.

Still, life at the Playa Des Losers was more than tolerable. And, I suppose, until I had an opportunity to get back in the game, if such an opportunity ever arose, I would have to make due.

But tomorrow was Monday, and tomorrow I would call my lawyer, and with any luck, I would be back in the game by Friday. I fell asleep that night imagining it, excited, anticipating the look on Duncan's face when I came back.

I didn't dream.


End file.
